


Wasted Time

by Tay (erentitanjaeger)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Wolf Shiro, M/M, Modern AU, Omega Cat Keith, Omegaverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-26 02:32:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14392380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erentitanjaeger/pseuds/Tay
Summary: “I can’t believe I only gave you one condition when I invested in this place, and you broke it,” Shiro mutters.“How is Poor Beans a corny name for a coffee shop?”“It has ‘beans’ in the title.  That automatically makes it corny and predictable.”Shiro supposes he shouldn’t be too hard on Keith for being so ‘corny’ and ‘predictable’ when his entire life has basically become just that.  After all, how predictable is it to fall irretrievably in love with your childhood friend?  How corny is it to want to see him succeed so badly, you use your own money to make it happen?  How utterly trivial is it for Shiro to be so irrevocably in love with Keith, that he hasn’t ever had a mate?  Or a kiss.  Or even a date.Completely corny, he thinks.





	1. Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for @w0lf_prince on twitter!   
> Thank you so much for this project, I'm excited to see it unfold!

Shiro can still remember everything about that day.  He can remember the summer breeze.  The squeak of the swings.  He can remember the sand under his shoes and the other kids screaming and shouting as they raced each other around the playground.  He can remember the face.  Keith’s face.  Dirty, scratched, scrunched in pain.  His ears flattened to his head and his tail curled against his leg.  All hiss but no bite; the mark of someone whose fangs had yet to come in.  Shiro can remember how he cowered atop the jungle gym, flinching as the neighbourhood bullies continued to throw rocks and sticks at him, all the while shouting obscenities no four-year-old should know yet.

Shiro’s grandfather always told him ‘sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me’, but Shiro remembers thinking that must be said by people who hadn’t had both thrown at them at once.

“Leave him alone!” Shiro remembers shouting, his voice clearly heard over the roar of the other kids.  The bullies turned, their attention ripped from Keith finally. 

“Why don’t you make me?” The leader called back.

Shiro had stepped closer, his thick tail swishing behind him, agitated that his play time was interrupted by someone as stupid and cruel as this.  “I will!” Shiro had shouted in return, confidence radiating from his tone.  The kind of confidence that came from a wolf speaking down to a puppy; which is exactly what that kid was.  They had been of the same species, but thanks to Shiro’s slightly higher place in the food chain, his growth was far accelerated.  At his full height, he could be considered double his age.

The kid’s expression morphed immediately, realising who, or what, he was dealing with.  He let out a small yap, comical, even to Shiro back then, but raced away with his friends in tow.  Shiro huffed as they left.  Above him, the small kitten still cowered with fear, his tiny fists still clenched around the top bars of the jungle gym.  Shiro motioned for him to come down.  Keith shook his head, messy hair waving as he did.

“They’re gone!’ Shiro called.  “You can come down now.”

Keith shook his head again. 

“Why not?” Shiro tried again.  “I won’t hurt you!”

It took a while, and a lot more coaxing, but eventually Keith relaxed and slowly clambered down from the top bars until his worn-down shoes touched the ground.  Instead of offering Shiro thanks, Keith rounded on him, baring his teeth, his pupils thinned to menacing slits.

“I didn’t need your help!” Shiro thought this odd, as he so clearly had.  “I coulda taken them on myself!”

Shiro only gave him a confused look in return.  “You don’t need my help to want my help.”

“I didn’t want that either!”

Despite Keith’s temper tantrum, Shiro remembers seeing tears in his eyes, making small tracks down the dirt on his face.  Can remember how broken Keith had looked, like this was so much a part of his life, that Keith must have felt so lost in his place in that world, that asking for help was considered nothing but a luxury.  Shiro can remember feeling not sorry for him, but desperate.  Desperate to help.

Instead of fighting with him further, Shiro held out his hand.  Keith looked at it, through the tears running down his face, sniffling loudly.

“My grandpa made cake,” Shiro said instead.  “Did you want to come over for a slice?  He has juice boxes too.”

Keith’s tears faltered, looking into Shiro’s eyes with longing and, if he wasn’t mistaken, hope.  Hope that this wasn’t a trick of his imagination, or a lie, or a scheme.  That this may be the first genuine offering of friendship and kindness Keith had ever received in his life.

With a hiccup, wiping his snotty nose on his arm, he nodded, and followed Shiro off the playground.

Keith had been following Shiro ever since.

\---

The door over the bell chimes as Shiro steps through it.  Immediately, the smell of roasting coffee beans, freshly baked pastries and his best friend greet him.  Sure enough, Keith is behind the counter, writing orders on coffee cups and taking payments as the line slowly moves forward.  Shiro’s ears already twitch in excitement.  He is to expect nothing new from today, Shiro does this every morning, yet the anticipation of seeing Keith always seems to get is heart racing in his chest and a smile pre-emptively forming on his lips.

“Let me guess?” Keith’s husk of a voice is finally directed at him.  “Large black coffee, no cream, no sugar, and a donut with chocolate glaze?”

Shiro fights the blush forming on his cheeks.  There’s a certain kind of familiarity, of satisfaction, that comes from Keith knowing him so well.  “Maybe today I want strawberry glaze.”

“You hate strawberry.”

Shiro laughs at that, and Keith only hands over the donut while shouting the coffee order over his shoulder.  While Shiro waits, he glances over the menu proudly mounted to the wall behind Keith.  It isn’t a large menu, but it has enough, probably more than what a small coffee shop like Poor Beans would be expected to have. 

“I can’t believe I only gave you one condition when I invested in this place, and you broke it,” Shiro mutters.  He shouldn’t have done more than thought it however, as Keith’s ears flick irritably while he passes bagels over the counter.  Trust Keith to pick up on even the subtlest of Shiro’s indescrepencies.  It comes from a life on the streets; always focused, always aware.  Nothing gets past Keith.

“How is Poor Beans a corny name for a coffee shop?”

“It has ‘beans’ in the title.  That automatically makes it corny and predictable.”

Keith huffs, but hands Shiro’s coffee over with a smile and a tiny cat face drawn on the cup.  Shiro tries not to think too much of the small amount of extra effort Keith has put into his coffee, and only his coffee.  Keith doesn’t do cutesy for anyone else.  Shiro knows; he’s checked.

He supposes he shouldn’t be too hard on Keith for being so ‘corny’ and ‘predictable’ when his entire life has basically become just that.  After all, how predictable is it to fall irretrievably in love with your childhood friend?  How corny is it to want to see him succeed so badly, you use your own money to make it happen?  How utterly trivial is it for Shiro to be so irrevocably in love with Keith, that he hasn’t ever had a mate?  Or a kiss.  Or even a date. 

Completely corny, he thinks.

Eventually, Keith manages to escape from his place and leave the rest of the morning rush to his employees.  Shiro and Keith take their usual seat by the window, Keith immediately huddling into the corner, where the morning sun has warmed the seat.  Keith sighs, holding his palms up on the table to absorb as much heat as possible.  Shiro fights the urge to think how easy it would be for him to warm Keith’s hands if he were allowed to hold them.

He fails.

“Why is it so cold in here?” Keith whines.  Shiro slides his coffee across the table.  Keith places his hands around the still hot cup.

“I told you brick was a bad idea, but you wanted it to have the rustic look.” Keith snarls, hating it when Shiro is logical, and worst of all, right.  “I can give you central heating, Keith.  You wouldn’t even have to close shop for the installation.”

Keith mumbles.  Something about the offer being tempting.  Shiro chuckles, taking a bite of his donut. 

While they sit there and chat, Shiro talking about his job at the firm and how many cases seem to be piling up, how Keith’s usual supply of coffee beans was back ordered so now he has to use cheap crap he’s bought from down the road.  It’s easy.  It’s simple.  It’s times like this Shiro’s mind wanders, and he starts to think how different their relationship would be if it were more intertwined.  He likes to think it wouldn’t be that different.  Merely sharing a kiss here, a hug there.  Shiro could sleep wrapped around Keith, protecting him from all that he’s suffered in the world.  It would be lovely; all of Shiro’s dreams come true. 

And yet it could make things so much more complicated.  In short, it could ruin the friendship they’ve spent fifteen years building.  Shiro would rather never know what Keith truly thinks of him than have that happen.

“I said _no!_ ”

Shiro is startled out of his distant thoughts, having not noticed another cat, a jaguar judging by the shape of his ears, looming over Keith, who has pressed himself even further against the window, clearly uncomfortable.  Shiro’s ears instantly perk and his hackles raise.

“C’mon, sweet omega,” the jaguar leans closer.  Keith bares his fangs, and hisses.  Shiro knows how much Keith hates being called ‘omega’ _._   “I’ll show you such a good time.”

Shiro doesn’t need to inhale to know this guy is an alpha.  Only one kind of person wears such cockiness on their sleeve.  He glances to Keith, and is only angered further when he sees not just Keith’s own fury, but fear as well.  The kind of fear locked behind a mask of bravado he’s forced to wear in order to defend himself.  Shiro remembers it so clearly from back then, and grows the same instinct to protect even all these years later.

Shiro stands abruptly, causing both omega and alpha to turn towards him.  Shiro steps toward the stranger, their heights evenly matched, their strengths are too.  Even in a physical brawl, Shiro knows the very thought of Keith in danger would give him enough edge to score a victory.

“Leave him alone,” Shiro growls, managing to step in between Keith and the opposing alpha.  It seems to have worked, as the jaguar finally puts some wanted space between Keith and himself. 

He looks put off, but not ready to back down entirely.

“Hey, I was just asking him out Friday-“

“He’s busy Friday.  He’ll be out with me,” Shiro lies through his teeth, but feels it a necessity at this point.  They’re not going out Friday night, but so long as this alpha believes Keith will be available, he’ll never stop harassing Shiro’s beloved friend.

Both alphas are at a stand-still.  Shiro can sense the rest of the inhabitants of the shop looking at them, can feel Keith’s panic behind him.  The jaguar looks Shiro up and down, clearly judging Shiro’s ears and his accompanied species.  Shiro only growls louder.  Finally, the jaguar relaxes his shoulders and takes a step back; an act of defeat.

“Fine!  Jeez, you should learn to scent your mate better if you don’t want others going for him.”

Shiro doesn’t let himself look surprised at that statement, only continues to growl lowly, deep in his throat, until the jaguar finally turns to re-join his friends on the other side of the shop.  In order to assure Keith’s safety until the pride leaves, Shiro takes the seat beside Keith this time, pressing their bodies together in the limited space.

Eventually, the shop returns to normal.  The hustle and bustle drowning out the recent events until it’s nothing more than a funny anecdote to relay at the end of the day.  Shiro can feel Keith’s discomfort as they sit there in silence, how he slowly comes back to himself, his ears twitching in either direction as he sorts through his thoughts.  Shiro has to calm himself down, wills himself to relax.  His tail does not stop thumping against the seat, however.

“Thanks.  For that,” Keith speaks, his voice quiet and uneasy.

Shiro hums in affirmation, not trusting himself to speak.  There’s an off sort of tension stretched between them, bordering on uncomfortable, but Shiro can feel something else sizzling underneath.  He can see out of the corner of his eye as Keith tries to speak, tries to form words that will make the situation slightly less awkward. 

“So, where are we going Friday?” Keith asks, so innocent and void of any humour, Shiro knows him to be serious.  Shiro only remembers at the last second to keep his face neutral as he gazes at his best friend, rather than portray the shock he ultimately feels at the statement.

It’s not exactly how he wanted to ask Keith out on their first date, but he supposes he shouldn’t be selective at this point.

\---

Having never been on one, Shiro isn’t sure what to do for a first date, let alone a first date with his best friend, who he’s loved most of his adult life.  He knows dinner is usually expected, so asks the other omegas around his office for recommendations.  He ends up picking a lovely seafood restaurant as he knows how much Keith loves fish.  The place has a beautiful atmosphere, with candle light atop every table, a string quartet in the corner playing soft music.  The food smells delicious, and Shiro assures Keith he can order whatever he wants.

The conversation, however, doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Shiro had picked Keith up only thirty minutes before, and already, he knows this will be their one and only date.  Keith’s ears betray him, as does his hands, ripping the napkin on his lap into tiny pieces.  He barely touches his food, only plays with it on the plate, and doesn’t object when the waiter comes to take it away.  Shiro attempts to cheer him up, but if Keith’s off smell were any indication, it’s clear that Keith is uncomfortable.

He wants to leave, Shiro thinks, fighting the urge to look so dejected.  He doesn’t want to be here with me.

Forty-five minutes in, and Shiro asks for the cheque.  It must be some kind of record, the world’s shortest date.  Shiro feels horrible as he climbs into the taxi beside Keith and gives the driver his friend’s address.  The awkward silence is back, the one that hasn’t left since this morning, after Shiro had accidentally asked Keith out on this disaster of a date.

Shiro wants to ask if they’re still friends, if he can walk into Keith’s coffee shop tomorrow like he always does, order his usual, and spend their morning together like every other day.  He wants to ask if they can pretend this never happened.

“I’m sorry-“ Yet it’s Keith who speaks first.  Shiro gives a confused noise in reply, looking to Keith, and realising for the first time how _upset_ Keith looks at the situation.  “I thought this would go better, but I guess I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Shiro wants to refuse, wants to assure Keith none of this is his fault, yet he feels Keith has more to say, so waits patiently.

“I don’t think I can stomach the kind of food you normally eat.  I’m used to eating fish burgers and pasta.  I wanted to try for your sake, I wanted this to work so badly, because you’re my best friend.  Because I lo-“ Keith stops himself, biting his lip, worrying at it.  Shiro wants to soothe it, run his thumb along it before taking it between his own lips.  “Because I like you.  A lot.”

Shiro doesn’t need to clarify to know what he means. 

So, Keith feels the same for him?  All this time, and Shiro had no idea.  All this time, and Shiro could have asked him out sooner.  Could have asked Keith out _his_ way, rather than embarrassingly doing it just to protect him from another alpha.  They could have had a real first date instead.  While Keith looks sadly out the window, his expression reflected to Shiro in the window, Shiro decides this can’t be the end of their first date.

“Driver!” Shiro taps on the taxi’s separating glass.  He gives the driver a new destination, Keith fixing him a troubled look.  Shiro only smiles reassuringly.

Some time later, and Keith’s hand is hot in his.  They stumble up a hill, getting their free hands dirty, acting like toddlers.  The plastic bag in Shiro’s hand rustles while Keith tries to stifle his laughter into his palm.  Shiro gets his shoes dirty but doesn’t care in the least as the noises of explosions and a lame action movie playing in the distance becomes clearer and clearer.  Eventually, they reach the top, where Shiro strips himself of his suit jacket and lays it down on the grass. 

“Are you sure we’re allowed to do this?” Keith asks as he gets comfortable, though the pink on his cheeks and the shine in his eyes tells Shiro he’d still be doing it anyway.

“Of course not!  Why do you think we had to climb that fence?” Shiro makes sure to sit as close to Keith as possible.  They missed the first twenty minutes of the movie sneaking onto the property, and they don’t have one of the radios usually given at the entrance, so they can only hear it when they movie gets particularly loud and they can partially hear everyone else’s radios.  While Keith gets his bearings and concentrates on the movie, Shiro opens the bag he brought and hands Keith a wrapped burger.  “I still owe you dinner,” Shiro says as way of an explanation.

Keith takes it thankfully, and rips open the fish burger, devouring it in minutes.  Maybe it doesn’t make sense to sneak into a drive-in cinema as loaded as Shiro is, but its definitely more fun.  He and Keith used to do this when they were kids, and Shiro was still learning the fundamentals of saving his own money, while Keith had none at all.  They could never hear the movie, so they’d usually make up their own version of what was going on, then share laughs with each other while they re-countered the completely wrong events to their friends.  Some of Shiro’s fondest memories are those nights, and where he can remember first realising his feelings for Keith.

“You know, I like you, too.  I’ve liked you forever, Keith,” Shiro offers, when there’s a lull in the movie.  Keith turns to him, large eyes blinking at him, reflecting the movie that they’ve both stopped watching.  Keith continues to stare, unbelieving, so Shiro continues.  “I’ve liked you so much and for so long, I’ve never been on a date with anyone else before, never wanted to, so I wasn’t sure what to do when I found myself asking you out tonight.  I just assumed a fancy restaurant and come candles would be enough; I should have thought more about what you’d enjoy.”

Keith looks breath-taking as he continues to stare at Shiro.  His pale skin seems to glow under the starlight, his eyes sparkle with all the wonder and aggressive love they hold. 

“We’re both really dumb, aren’t we?” Keith begins, a laugh on his breath.  “We’ve both been holding back because we were scared of what we could ruin;, we never considered what we could gain.”

Shiro shares a quiet laugh as he agrees.

They watch a little more of the movie, still unbeknownst as to what is happening, neither really caring at this point. 

Shiro finds himself losing interest in the movie completely when Keith’s small and warm hand slips into his.  Shiro wastes no time in encompassing the digits, squeezing Keith’s palm reassuringly.  They’re both blushing, both thankful for the darkness that hides their embarrassment. 

“No more wasted time, alright?” Keith whispers, so quiet Shiro may have missed it if they really had been watching the movie, but Shiro does hear it, and he utterly agrees.

“No more wasted time,” he affirms, running a soothing thumb gently along Keith’s hand, memorising every small detail about it.  About how warm it is, how tiny it is, how nimble Keith’s fingers are.  He tries to memorise how Keith smells in this moment, soft like soap, yet sharp like spices.  Completely familiar and enticing as ever an omega was. 

Their hands never separate.  Not as the movie finishes, not as Shiro hails a taxi home.  Not as Keith rests his head on Shiro’s shoulder, dozing off lightly, his lashes kissing the pink of his cheeks.  When they arrive at Keith’s apartment building, Shiro is sure to walk him to the door.  They’re both grinning, reminiscence of a high school couple returning to their parents rather than two grown adults returning to their separate homes. 

Keith turns to Shiro at his door, smiles at him, so warm and bright it causes Shiro’s heart to sing.  His tail wags.  Keith notices, laughs lightly at it. 

“Well…” Shiro says, unsure of how to say good night when he never wants this night to end.  He wants to kiss Keith, obviously, but as someone who has never kissed anyone before, he’s unsure of how to proceed.  Besides how special this night turned out to be, Shiro feels their first kiss should be special as well, not shared as an after thought in Keith’s hallway in the middle of the night.  With that, they share their farewells, promise to see each other in the morning, and walk away.  Shiro waits until the door is firmly shut and he’s part way down the hallway when he allows himself to throw a victorious fist in the air.

He’s outside again, the spring air slightly chilly now that there’s no sun to warm his face, and the taxi awaits invitingly at the end of the drive.  Yet half way down, there’s a loud clatter, footsteps rushing to approach him.  Shiro turns just in time to catch Keith, who barrels into him, and launches himself on his tip toes to seal their lips together.

It’s rushed, clumsy, their teeth clack and Shiro almost slips and falls from where he tries to right himself.  It’s perfect.  Keith is so warm against him, his lips slightly rough where he worries at them so often.  His tongue is shy as it prods at Shiro’s own, but Shiro lets him in without a moment’s hesitation.  Shiro feels on air.  His head clouds and his thoughts seem to slow.  His nostrils fill with the pumpkin spice smell that Keith seems to emanate, and he inhales deeply, pressing Keith closer to himself.

It’s a time before they separate, breathing against each other’s mouths, moist and warm.  Shiro looks to Keith, whose face lights up as bright as he’s ever seen.

“No more wasted time, right?”

Shiro licks his lips, nodding vigorously before cupping Keith’s face and slotting their lips together again.

His body sings and his lips tingle, Keith meeting each of his movements with twice as much enthusiasm as Shiro thought him capable of.  It’s rough and gentle all at the same time.  Calm yet exciting.  Over bearing and yet completely soothing. 

“No more wasted time,” he whispers against Keith’s perfect lips.


	2. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not that Shiro doesn’t want those kinds of touches, those kinds of intentions, from Keith. He’s dreamed about them more times than his adolescent self will ever let him admit, but he’s slightly put off by how fast they’ve come. In hindsight, they’ve only been dating for a couple of weeks. Shiro knows enough about relationships to understand that this is around the time he should be expecting this kind of behaviour from Keith, yet can’t stop himself feeling like there’s something off about it.
> 
> Why does he feel like he’s being backed into a corner?

It always comes as a surprise to Shiro as to how _white_ snow can be.  He’s seen it in his life plenty of times to expect it, yet every time he lays eyes on the first blanket of the season, he’s struck by how soft and pure it seems.

“Are you also surprised when the sky turns black every night?” Keith teases, after Shiro voices such a thought to him.  Shiro grimaces, realising perhaps he should have kept that not-so-intelligent thought to himself.

“I was just trying to be honest,” Shiro quips back, though no real malice reaches his voice.  Keith sniggers in the passenger seat beside him. 

It’s quiet for a moment as the car continues to drift up the mountain side.  Keith has his nose pressed to the glass, eyes wide as he views the mountains and snow-covered forest for the first time.  The isolation seems to give everything a different colour, though Keith would argue it’s still white.  Everything seems so much more still, so much more complacent out here.  Shiro has always loved it, from the time he was young and his parents first bought the ski cabin, to right now, when he gets to share such a sight with his boyfriend.

Boyfriend.  He’s had weeks to get used to the fact, and yet it still sends trills of excitement down his spine every time he thinks it.  After that first date, that first kiss shared in the drive-way, the events of their relationship had flowed so smoothly from one moment to the next, like snowflakes melding together as they cover the world around them.  Just like the snow, it shocks Shiro as to how beautiful it can be to share your life so passionately with the one you’ve always loved.

Spring passed, and Winter had come in no time, bringing with it a record breaking freeze.  As soon as Shiro noticed the drop in temperature, he immediately began to plan this trip.  What better way to spend time with your boyfriend (another spark flies down Shiro’s spine at the thought) then in an isolated cabin deep in the snow-capped woods?  No one to disturb them, no one to interrupt them.  Shiro can’t even take work calls out here as there is no cell phone service.

His eyes flit off the road for a moment when a warm hand is placed on his thigh.  Out of the corner of his eye, Keith looks no different.  Complacent and entertained, ears perked in excitement, yet it still feels so new to Shiro.  The weight is ever so welcoming, and as Shiro inhales, Keith’s perfume only makes it all the more so.  Shiro isn’t sure when Keith started wearing artificial fragrances, but the one he’s picked smells _divine_.  Like pumpkin spice soap; clean yet dirty, soft and sharp all at once.

Shiro would take a hand off the wheel to encompass Keith’s fingers, if driving didn’t already make him nervous enough as it is.

More comfortable silence passes between them, when Keith’s hand is no longer just a welcoming weight, but a trailing tease.  His fingers glide up the in-seam of Shiro’s pants, closer and closer to his crotch.  Shiro flinches as it draws too close, and Keith retracts his hand.  Shiro doesn’t dare take his eyes off the road, even to check if Keith has been offended.

“S-sorry,” Shiro mumbles instead.

Keith only gives him a quiet hum, not seeming affected.  Everything returns to normal.

It’s not that Shiro doesn’t want those kinds of touches, those kinds of intentions, from Keith.  He’s dreamed about them more times than his adolescent self will ever let him admit, but he’s slightly put off by how fast they’ve come.  In hindsight, they’ve only been dating for a couple of weeks.  Shiro knows enough about relationships to understand that this is around the time he _should_ be expecting this kind of behaviour from Keith, yet can’t stop himself feeling like there’s something off about it.

Clearly, Keith wants it.  His hints have been growing more daring over the past few days alone, enough that it almost sent Shiro’s anxiety sky rocketing enough that he cancelled the whole trip.  He had to take an hour to remind himself that it’s okay to want to feel that way for Keith too.  They’re boyfriends now, together, potential mates.  It’s to be expected.  If not now, then when?  And Shiro knows in any other given scenario, he would want it in return.

So, why does he feel like he’s being backed into a corner?

They arrive at the cabin without any further incidents, and Shiro groans as he clambers out of the car and is finally able to stretch his back. 

“I hate driving,” he mutters, temporarily forgetting about Keith’s sonic hearing.

“Don’t complain when I offered to drive four times!” He’s working on getting their suitcases out of the boot.  Shiro moves to help him.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro chuckles, taking the opportunity to show off a little, slipping Keith’s duffel bag over his shoulder, their food under one arm and taking his own suitcase with the other.  Keith huffs at him, amused smile on his delicate features, but follows him toward the front door anyway.  “Driving makes me nervous at the best of times.  At least behind the wheel, I’m in control.”

“You can ride in taxis now, at least,” Keith says as he takes the keys from Shiro and unlocks the cabin for them. 

Shiro nods, thankful for that at least.  Yet sitting in the passenger seat is another ordeal entirely.  Too many horrible memories are attached to that seat and the lack of control it holds.  Memories of screeching tires, burning oil.  Folding metal and grinding bones.  Of waking up, dosed and disorientated, of feeling scared and alone, a giant chunk of himself missing.

Shiro flexes his prosthetic on impulse, doesn’t realise he’s doing it until the metal fingers are occupied by Keith’s flesh and blood ones.  Shiro looks to Keith, to this wonderful man who had been there through it all.  It’s partly why he hadn’t hesitated to give Keith the money to start his business; he feels eternally indebted to Keith in so many ways.

“Come back to me,” Keith says, quietly, softly.  It’s comforting.

“I’m back,” Shiro promises, turning fully so he can take Keith in his arms.  They hold each other for a moment, appreciating the view they can see out the floor-to-ceiling windows the cabin holds, appreciating the weight of each other as they both lean into the hug.  It’s grounding to Shiro.  It’s everything he needs and more.

When their lips meet in a searing kiss, it feels eternal, like the universe itself is lighting up behind Shiro’s eyelids.  To say they’ve gotten better at the whole kissing thing is an understatement, as they literally haven’t gone a moment without practicing since that first instance.  The kiss solidifies Shiro’s place in this universe beside Keith.

It shatters to pieces when Keith’s hands slip a little too low for comfort, when the kiss grows a little too deep and Keith’s movements become a little too urgent. 

Shiro thinks, only for a split second, of entertaining Keith and his urges, but his instincts flare at the thought and he finds himself pushing Keith away.  Not harshly, but enough that Keith’s look of surprise turns hurtful.

“Sorry,” Shiro mutters again.  “It’s just a bit of a shock-“

“A shock that I want to kiss my boyfriend?” Keith asks, defensively.  Shiro wishes it was an appropriate time to kiss away the crease between his eyebrows.

“It’s not the kissing that’s so shocking,” Shiro supplies.

It’s become awkward.  The tension thick.  Shiro isn’t sure how to break it; how to fix it.  Eventually though, Keith relaxes.  He still looks a little hurt, a little frustrated even, but his anger dissipates.

“C’mon,” he says, quietly.  “Let’s go put our stuff away.”

He takes himself from Shiro’s arms, despite Shiro’s quiet protest, and hauls his duffle bag toward the stairs.  Shiro lets him go ahead, not wanting to crowd Keith just yet, but his scent lingers, intoxicating, now infecting Shiro’s sweater.  Odd, Shiro thinks as he takes his own suitcase, but doesn’t linger on it himself.

By the time he’s upstairs, the moment from before has been forgotten, and Keith is back in high spirits.  They quickly adorn their ski clothes and take to the slopes.  Keith, having never accepted Shiro’s offer before of coming up here while they were kids, has never skied before.  That’s okay, Shiro realises, because it’s fun to teach him.  At first, Shiro is nervous Keith will try something again while pressed so tightly together.  He feels his heart speed up every time he has to catch his boyfriend, yet Keith is either too distracted or still too hurt to follow through.  Eventually, Shiro forgets about the awkward incident entirely, and the afternoon blurs into night before they know it.

Luckily, the cabin has gas fires, so he ignites it as soon as they walk in the door, and Keith sits as close to the heat as possible without sticking his hands in the flames.

“So cold!” Keith cries shrilly.  Shiro chuckles, placing a thick blanket over Keith’s shoulders.

“What did you expect when I invited you to spend a weekend at a ski cabin?”

“Shut it!” Keith bites.  Shiro laughs again, kissing Keith’s ears while he goes to make dinner.  Keith eventually warms enough that he joins Shiro in the kitchen.

The soup is thick and creamy, filled with thick pieces of meat that Keith swallows whole.  Shiro doesn’t need to ask to know where Keith’s messy eating habits come from, but has never thought of them as gross.  They argue like a couple whose been together for years, rather than a couple of weeks, over who will wash the dishes, but eventually settle on a team effort.  Once everything is put away, Keith claims he wants a bath.

Shiro doesn’t think anything of it, and sits by the fire reading one of the old paperbacks left behind years ago.  It’s when Keith clears his throat, when Shiro turns and is met with creamy thighs, a flushed face, naked collar bones under Keith’s low hanging sweater.  Shiro’s sweater, he realises.  Shiro can’t help but swallow, can’t help but think how good and beautiful Keith looks as he makes his way over to Shiro. 

Keith’s tail swishes, the white bow fixed to the end rustling. 

His skin is hot as Keith straddles Shiro on the couch, thighs pressed to Shiro’s, hands cupping his jaw.  Shiro feels his fingers gravitate toward Keith’s hips, lingering in the moment and the atmosphere created.  As he gazes at Keith, at his gentle expression and skin so pale and delicate, he forgets why he was ever afraid of sharing such an act with someone he loves so dearly.

Shiro has just enough time to notice the shine on Keith’s lips before they’re preoccupied with something else.  It’s the kiss that sends it all south.  It feels so off that it makes Shiro sick, though he knows it shouldn’t.  Keith is beautiful and warm and wanting.  His smell is intoxicating, so much so Shiro feels himself slip a little.

“Shiro,” Keith whimpers, pressing his hips down.  Shiro jolts, not because it doesn’t feel good, but because it does. 

He has to use real force this time in order to pry Keith off of him, the loud thud not muffled even where Keith lands on the faux fur rug.  It’s silent, still, except for the crackling of the fire and Shiro’s heavy breathing.  Keith looks more than hurt this time.  He looks angry, frustrated.  Almost livid.

“Keith, I’m sorry.”  Shiro’s actions don’t reflect his words however, as he rounds the couch so there’s something between them as Keith stands up, rubbing his behind and the base of his tail.  Keith’s ears are flattened to his hair, a dead give away he’s more than just a little angry. 

“Why do you keep pushing me away!?” Keith finally loses it, his eyes turned slits, his fangs bared.  Shiro is ashamed; he never thought Keith would aim such a look at him.  Yet Shiro knows to stand his ground.  He knows enough about himself that he has nothing really to be sorry about; he just doesn’t want Keith to think he’s undesirable.  The total opposite, actually, but that doesn’t stop Shiro from thinking, feeling, _knowing_ that something about Keith’s actions are entirely out of character for him.

Shiro never imagined that this was how Keith would approach their first time.  In truth, he always thought it would come far more naturally.  Not like this.  Not so _forced_.

“Why do you keep pressing me, Keith?” Shiro growls back, his own aggravation showing now. 

Keith hisses, truly hisses at him, in reply.  Shiro knows not to bark back, as much as he wants to.

“Because we’re boyfriends!  We’re genetically compatible!  You’re an alpha, I’m an omega!  It’s only natural that we fuck!”

There he goes again, using words and instances that are so un-Keith.

“That’s not what this is about!” Shiro claims.  “I know you.  I know you can think far beyond secondary genders and base instincts!  You wouldn’t be trying so hard to bed me if there wasn’t a reason.”  Keith looks even more frustrated now.  His cheeks red, his eyes brimming with tears of anger.  Shiro wants to go to him, to comfort him.  “What is it, Keith?  Tell me!”

Keith swallows, before his flushed features are aimed at Shiro.

“Because I’m in heat!”

It’s goes silent again.  This time, not even the roaring of the fire reaches Shiro’s ears.

“You what?” He heard Keith just fine, yet it’s still something he needs to absorb slowly. 

“N-not entirely,” Keith continues, real tears dripping from his eyes now.  “But I will be.  I can feel it coming.  I don’t know if it’s from dating you or what, but it’s coming early.  When that happens, I know I won’t be able to stop myself.  I’ll want to have sex with you so badly it’ll tear me apart, and I’ll beg and beg you to make it happen.”

Shiro listens, all the while putting each piece of the puzzle together.  It wasn’t perfume Keith was wearing, it was his pheromones, so sweet and lovely to his mate that Shiro hadn’t stopped to think they were natural.  Why Keith had been so pushy, so unwilling to listen.

“I don’t want my first time to be like that,” Keith says, his voice thick with emotion.  Shiro jumps the couch to hurry to him, taking Keith in his arms, burying his nose against his ears.  “I don’t my first time, _our_ first time, to be when I’m so hormonal that I won’t remember it.  I don’t want our first time to happen because I’m in a sex-induced haze while my hormones take over and I become nothing but a breeding tool.”

“So, you tried to make it happen on your own terms,” Shiro finishes where Keith can’t.

Keith sniffles against Shiro’s chest, nodding.  Shiro cups the back of Keith’s head, twisting his fingers into dark locks.

“I’m so sorry, Shiro,” Keith is completely lost now, sobbing and wailing his regret and guilt.  “I didn’t mean to push you.  I didn’t mean to force you; I just got so desperate.  I felt so rushed; I didn’t realise I was making it happen for all the same reasons I was trying to avoid.”

Shiro nods his understanding, shushing Keith and holding him tighter.  Now so close, Shiro can’t believe he ever thought such a strong and sweet smell to be artificial, when it’s so clearly Keith.

“You should have said something,” Shiro says when Keith has calmed and they’ve gathered on the plush rug.  Keith is in Shiro’s lap, for reasons born of the need for comfort, still fixed under Shiro’s chin. 

“I didn’t know how; I’ve never asked an alpha for help with a heat before.”

Shiro hears the underlying meaning in those words.  Keith has never asked anyone for help, period.  Asking for help is a luxury he never could afford.

Carefully, delicately, Shiro lifts Keith’s chin so he can look into those Bambi-like eyes.  Wide and fearful, full of so much conflicting emotion.  Yet soft and familiar.  Shiro sighs a breath of relief, the storm that had been bubbling inside his stomach fading like smoke on the wind.  He lets their lips connect, for once no ulterior motive behind the contact, soft and good like he’s always known.  Then he slips his tongue between Keith’s teeth, kissing deeply, loving fiercely.

 _This_ feels natural.  This feels like it should.  With Keith clinging to him, with Shiro so willing to give and give as much as Keith wants to take.  With the quiet, desolate night around them and a heat igniting in his gut that has nothing to do with the fire.  He pushes Keith down until his back hits the fur of the rug, Shiro lying himself flat atop him, slipping between those naked thighs so seamlessly, it’s a wonder its taken him so long to get here at all.

“Shiro, wait,” Keith’s voice is delicate, a whimper.  Shiro wants to swallow it, but holds himself back.  “We don’t have to.  You’re right; we can wait.  I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this just for me.  I-I can spend my heat alone, like always.”

Shiro only tightens his hold on his beloved, on his omega.

“I won’t let you feel alone ever again,” Shiro says as he begins to press hot kisses to Keith’s neck.  The skin so warm and thin, Shiro is afraid he’ll break it too easily with his canines.  “I want to do this with you, I want to make you mine.  I just wanted you to talk to me first.”

Keith’s eyes shine as they fill with tears again, but he nods vigorously under Shiro.  He promises, through sniffles and hiccups and wet kisses.  Shiro cuts him off by slipping a hand up a thigh, lightly trailing his nails along the skin.  Keith’s hiccups turn into soft moans, his sobs turn into actions.  He arches his back, nips Shiro’s lips as he’s kissed flat into the soft rug.

It doesn’t take long for Keith’s tears to disappear completely.  He doesn’t have room to think about crying when Shiro lavishes his neck and shoulders with bites and sucks.  Keith’s fingers rake through Shiro’s hair, pulling him to the places Keith wants him most.  Shiro obliges, humours him, because soon Keith won’t have a say in any of this.  Shiro’s fingers find their way under the sweater, _his_ sweater, Keith is wearing, to feel over pert buds and firm muscles.  Keith twitches, his hips rutting against Shiro’s, where they’re both growing hard in their pants and briefs.

Shiro tries hard to go slow, to give Keith the first time they both deserve.  He wants Keith to remember every part of it; every scorching touch and burning kiss.  Shiro himself wants to remember it all, how Keith looks in the firelight, pink and spread thin underneath him, so vulnerable it breaks Shiro’s heart.  So, he covers Keith’s body with his own, presses himself close to Keith and grinds their hips together.  Keith gasps, moans, fingers raking over Shiro’s shirt.  Shiro’s lips find Keith’s pulse point, and sucks.

“ _Shiro!”_ Keith gasps, so wanton it sets Shiro’s nerves alight.

Shiro shushes him, slowly works his hips against Keith’s, those soft, pale thighs either side of his hips a sultry sight.  He threads a hand into thick hair, pulling Keith so he’s angled the direction Shiro wants, where he can bite easier at the supple flesh.

Keith has gone quiet, too focused on how everything feels to be able to reciprocate.  Good.  That’s how Shiro wants him.

Shiro is the first to start stripping, if only to make Keith feel more comfortable.  He’s not exactly proud of his own looks, the accident that took his arm also gave a lot in return.  Scars and chunks of burnt flesh, pink and rough and covering his torso in a way that can’t seem pretty.  Yet the fingers suddenly touching him there, those delicate hands that he’s wanted to treasure all his life, running over his muscles and toying, teasingly, with his nipples says otherwise.  Keith’s face is alight with something new; something wanting.  Shiro only recognises it because he knows he’s worn the same look before.

“Fuck, Shiro,” Keith breathes as Shiro slips his pants off to join his shirt in the corner of the room.  “I want you to smother me with those muscles.”

Shiro would laugh, only because it’s the most thirsty thing he’s ever heard come out of Keith’s mouth, any sign he’s ever had a sexual drive, but Shiro is more than happy to comply.  Keith welcomes him back by cupping his jaw and opening his legs once again.  Shiro vows, silently, never to leave.

Their kisses turn languid for a moment while it’s Keith’s turn to get naked.  It doesn’t take as long, he’s not wearing as much, but it’s just as enjoyable.  Keith’s nimble, slightly on the thin side, but his skin is flawless and soft under Shiro’s fingers.  He reacts violently to every touch, every loving bite.  Shiro feels something soft wind around his leg, noticing Keith’s tail wrapped around him to keep him in place, as if he’d ever think of going anywhere else.

“You’re gorgeous, baby,” Shiro whispers, hot and moist against Keith’s jaw.  Shiro notices Keith’s ears flick at the pet name, having never been called one before. 

“Baby?” Keith returns with a soft laugh.  He doesn’t stop meeting every one of Shiro’s touches with his own, arching into Shiro’s fingers and mouth. 

“Is that alright?” Shiro asks as he reaches down to finally pull the offending underwear from Keith’s hips.

“Yeah, it is.  I hate pet names but…with you, I like it.  I like feeling like I belong to you.”

That statement, coupled with seeing Keith naked for the first time, might have been enough to tip Shiro over the edge.  He holds on, grits his teeth and forces himself to look away, breathes through his teeth. 

“I’ll make sure you belong to me,” Shiro says, shoving his own briefs off finally, pretends like the pleased gasp that falls from Keith’s mouth isn’t a giant stroke to his ego.  “I’ll make sure every alpha and omega alike knows who you belong to.”

Keith, lying amongst the fake fur of the living room rug, the glow of the fire casting equal amounts of light and shadow so he looks as mysterious as he does beautiful.  Keith, who before was acting on desperation, now acts on a mutual understanding, on a deep connection.  Keith, whose Shiro’s very best friend, beloved boyfriend, and now his ever-lasting mate.

Keith shivers under Shiro’s gaze.

“Are you sure this is alright?” Keith asks again even as Shiro’s fingers drift to where they’re needed most.  “You can still say no.  We can do this another way.”

Shiro thinks it over for merely a second, eyes flicking down to where they’re both fully hard and leaking.  To where Keith’s legs are spread so wide around Shiro’s hips.  To where Keith’s chest rises and falls at a rapid pace, anticipation flooding his veins. 

“No more wasted time, right?”

Keith sees everything left unsaid in Shiro’s eyes, and relaxes fully as Shiro pushes his fingers in.

He’s careful with the preparation, and despite Keith’s heat not having arrived entirely, he’s still wet enough that the need for lube is minimal.  Shiro uses a generous amount anyway, refusing to leave hurting his mate to chance.  Keith arches and hisses as Shiro finds all of his good spots, his tail squeezing around Shiro’s thigh.  Shiro presses wet kisses to Keith’s chest as he works, deep and slow and thorough.

Eventually, Keith grows impatient enough to get a little roudy.  Shiro chuckles, covering his own cock with a mix of lube and Keith’s slick, trying not to ponder too much on it; he won’t last long as it is.

Shiro braces himself above Keith, makes sure to kiss him deeply as he aligns himself with Keith’s hole, and feels every part of his lover as he breaches those walls and they connect for the first time.  Keith gasps, eyes growing wide, legs twitching, nails digging into Shiro’s sweaty biceps.  Shiro presses his forehead to Keith’s shoulder, fumbling around to find Keith’s fingers so he can intertwine them with his own, holding on as he bottoms out.  Keith surrounds him beautifully, tight and hot and moist and soft and all the things anyone ever said bedding an omega was like, but with Keith, it’s over incomprehensibly better.

Shiro never considered what it might be like to have this with anyone else, only ever having pictured himself with Keith or no one at all.  He’s glad this exceeds all of his expectations with feelings he didn’t even know existed.

“Shiro!” Keith gasps in his ear.  “Shiro!  Shiro!”

Like a mantra, his name sounds beautiful falling from Keith’s lips.  Shiro answers with a groan, finally moving his hips when Keith bangs his fist on Shiro’s shoulder blade.  All the feelings and emotions running rampant through Shiro only grow exponentially as he moves.  He finds a rhythm quickly, pumping his hips against Keith’s, his cock sinking into that tight heat repeatedly.  Keith gasps and whines and scratches in the most delightful way.  Shiro bites him, instinct beginning to take over, only wanting to mark and mate and make Keith his.

Keith arches sharper, harder, into Shiro’s movements, unbeknownst to Shiro’s teeth on his skin.

“Oh God, baby!” Shiro groans, working his hips harder.  They’re both slicked with sweat, hair matted to foreheads, lips clumsy as they find each other in the dark, the firelight growing dimmer and dimmer.  Shiro doesn’t care, only thrusts harder, brutally, into Keith’s heat.

“I’m gonna cum,” Keith’s voice is strained, his thighs a vice around Shiro’s hips.  Shiro is thankful for the warning though, fucks Keith harder, and feels relief when they cum together.  Keith tightens around him so beautifully Shiro sees stars.  Keith arches, fingers white amongst Shiro’s own.  He cums all over them both.

Shiro fights the urge to pass out as he collapses beside Keith.

It’s silent between them, nothing to be heard but their heavy panting.  Shiro looks to Keith, to see Keith looking at him.  Those violet eyes are filled with so much longing and want still, it shakes Shiro to his core.  He doesn’t waste time in clambering on top of Keith to kiss him deep, to ground him with his own weight.  Keith whimpers, but clutches Shiro to him with all the strength he has left.

It’s some time before they separate.  Shiro hadn’t even knotted Keith, knowing that would be too much for a first time even to someone born of determination like Keith, but it takes a while to summon the will for his body to leave his now bonded mate’s.  When he does, he doesn’t go far, only grabs the rug off the back of the couch and covers their bodies with it. 

“Shiro,” Keith’s voice is a whisper in the dark, his body fitting into Shiro’s arms so perfectly.  Shiro holds him tight, unable to imagine letting him go.  “Shiro, I love you.”

It’s the first time Shiro has heard it from Keith, and yet it’s so expected.  Of course, after the act they just finished, these confessions of love don’t seem at all trivial, just another block that Shiro would not at all turn away.

“Keith, my omega, my everything,” he presses long kisses to Keith’s sweaty hair, to his nose, and finally bends so they can connect their lips.  “I love you, too.  Of course, I do.  I could never love anyone else.”

Keith shivers in Shiro’s grasp, merely from the declaration so deep and true it shakes the very foundation of who they are as individuals, and now, as one being.

Yet in only a few minutes, those shivers come from something far more physical.  Without the fire, the cabin has turned vastly cold, and Shiro clambers to reignite the fireplace again.  Keith laughs from his place on the fur rug, watching Shiro fiddle with the settings before finally the gas lights anew.  When it’s crackling away and Shiro has fixed the timer so it won’t extinguish again, Shiro scurries back to his mate.

His mate.  Shiro doesn’t think he could ever grow use to thinking that. 

They could move upstairs to the giant, king-sized bed the cabin has, but Keith is quick to doze off in his arms, ears soft on Shiro’s chin, his tail wrapped around Shiro’s thigh once again.  Shiro wouldn’t dare to move him, so only presses more kisses to Keith’s hair as he too, lets sleep take him.

He falls asleep to the knowledge that this man in his arms is forever his, at least in the physical sense, in a way no one else will ever be able to have him.  That Keith and him have shared an act so pure and new, it’s like freshly fallen snow, so surprisingly white, yet something to be expected.

“I love you, Keith,” Shiro says again, just so Keith will know it even as he dreams.  


	3. Lasts: New Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You could check his credit card,” Pidge suggests while picking out the pieces of broccoli her mum had snuck into her dinner, her already floppy ears drooping further. “That’ll tell you where he’s been and what he’s been doing.”  
> “That’s an invasion of privacy, Pidge, and worse, a breach of trust.” Though Keith would be lying if he hadn’t entertained the thought more than once.  
> “You sure he’s not cheating on you?”  
> Keith hisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Thank you again to @w0lf_prince on twitter for this commission! It's been amazing working on it! I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have.

Shiro is acting weird.

Keith sits in the break room of his coffee shop (finally updated with heating, a vending machine and a small kitchen where employees can heat up their lunch), mulling over this thought as he stares at his phone.  He had asked his boyfriend, now of two years, if he wanted to go to the new movie tonight.  They’ve both been dying to see it, and Keith knows for a fact it’s Shiro’s night off, so when he gets a rushed and short ‘no thank you’ as a response, Keith finds it difficult not to take it to heart.

If it were just this one message, Keith wouldn’t think anything of it.  Shiro is more busier now than ever, what with becoming junior partner of his firm, so Keith understands that sometimes he’s not a priority.  Just like Shiro understands when Keith needs to stay back late to count stock or rewrite wrong order forms.  They have their ups and downs like any other couple, especially a couple that’s stayed together for so long.  They’re both mature enough to understand there is more to life than just each other; it doesn’t mean they don’t love fiercely and devotedly when they are together.

It’s been like this for weeks, however.  Shiro has been giving him shorter and shorter responses, been coming home (to their shared apartment) later and later, and when Keith calls the office, they say he left hours ago.

Keith doesn’t want to read into it, and maybe the version of himself two years ago would have, but it still hurts to feel like, even as a passing thought, that Shiro has forgotten about him.

“I’ll go see it with you.” Pidge says once Keith explains the situation to her. 

“Thanks, Pidge,” Keith replies, trying not to look so disappointed.  He had been really hoping to hold Shiro’s hand through it, maybe sneak some kisses, or even give in to their primal urges and make out in the back row like teenagers.  He resigns to another day of not seeing Shiro, at least not seeing him awake, and books the tickets online while he waits for his break to finish.

The movie is as good as the reviews say it is, and dinner with Pidge is entertaining enough to take his mind off his impending worries.  Keith still gets home before Shiro, and grumbles as he’s forced to crawl into a cold bed, alone.

\---

“What do you think it is?” Keith mulls, again at work, again on his break, as he stares at another short rejection from his boyfriend.  He’s changed to glaring at the answers now, rather than sulking over them.  He feels like he hasn’t seen Shiro at all in weeks.

“Does he have a big case at work?” Pidge asks, slurping her leftover spaghetti.

“I don’t know,” Keith admits.  “We haven’t seen each other long enough for me to hear anything about what’s going on at his work.”

“You could check his credit card,” Pidge suggests while picking out the pieces of broccoli her mum had snuck into her dinner, her already floppy ears drooping further.  “That’ll tell you where he’s been and what he’s been doing.”

“That’s an invasion of privacy, Pidge, and worse, a breach of trust.”  Though Keith would be lying if he hadn’t entertained the thought more than once.

“You sure he’s not cheating on you?”

Keith hisses.

He makes it a point not to hiss at anyone who’s not his enemy, but at the very idea of Shiro breaching his own trust so volatilely that he’d be hooking up with another man, Keith has to.  Luckily, Pidge isn’t offended, only raises her eyebrows at him.

“It’s the most obvious answer,” she supplies.

“No, it’s not,” Keith’s instinct to protect his mate rises.  “Shiro would never cheat on me.  He loves me.  I love him.”

Pidge just fixes him with another look, but goes back to eating her mountain of carbs instead of speaking further. 

Keith is in a foul mood for the rest of the day and his customers suffer for it.

\---

It’s another painstaking few days before things finally start to turn around. 

Out of the blue, Shiro texts Keith with a dinner invitation.  Keith tries not to sob over his phone with relief.  Work seems to pass by slowly, but eventually, Keith is free to rush home and change before meeting Shiro at the appointed restaurant; a small, ‘60s diner that sells the best fish burgers Keith will ever eat.

Shiro is waiting for him out the front.

“Hey, babe,” Shiro greets, his voice soft and affectionate, his eyes alight with excitement to see his lover.  Keith knows he probably looks just as delighted, throwing himself into Shiro’s arms.  The scent thrills Keith.  So familiar and comforting, so strong and so _his._ They engage in a searing kiss reminiscent of a couple who’s separated for years rather than only a few weeks.  Keith whimpers, his claws digging into Shiro’s suit jacket, welcoming Shiro’s arms winding around him and holding him tight.

When they part, they’re panting and flushed and Keith stands on his tip toes to nuzzle against Shiro some more.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately,” Shiro says, once they’ve sat down and ordered.  They managed to snag their favourite corner booth, so they can sit pressed up against ach other, hidden away from the prying eyes of the rest of the diner’s inhabitants.  Here, Keith feels special.  Like he’s well and truly _Shiro’s._  

“It’s okay,” Keith says, lying.  It’s not okay, hasn’t been, but he won’t sour this sudden turn of attitude with his ability to hold a grudge.  “You’ve been busy.”

Keith is dying to ask with what, exactly, but holds his tongue.  He just wants to enjoy a night with his boyfriend; he’ll get to the semantics later.

“It’s not okay,” Shiro cuts through Keith’s words.  “I haven’t taken your calls or given you an explanation to where I’ve been.  I know you know I haven’t been at work.”

Keith blanches, but the guilty look on Shiro’s features tells him Shiro really does feel bad for his absence in their lives recently.

“So, where have you been?” Keith asks, not knowing if he really wants to know at all.

Shiro takes a deep breath, ready to explain, when the waitress arrives with their food.  Keith suddenly realises how hungry he is. 

“Let’s eat first,” Shiro says.  “We’ll talk after.  There’s something I need to ask you.”

Keith nods, curiosity peeked.

Their conversation turns light, and Keith is almost happy to forget about the cloud that hangs over their relationship.  The burgers are good, still, even after two years of dating.  They were good that first night, when Shiro supplied it to Keith in a way to make up for that first failed dinner.  It was delicious when they had sat up on that hill, under the stars, swallowing them whole while the movie played in front of them. 

The burgers haven’t changed, ever as a constant in their time together, even as their own love has morphed and grown, the burgers have remained the same. 

“I love the food here,” Shiro says around a mouthful of fries.  He swallows before continuing.  “But no matter what, it still reminds me of our first date, and how much of a disaster it was.”

Keith laughs, licking remnants of fish off his fingers.

“It wasn’t a disaster!  We’re still together now, two years later!” Keith tries to defend that night, though knows where Shiro is coming from.  For a time, that first date was definitely going in an unwanted direction.  Logically, it can be considered successful, as Keith’s words are true, yet honestly, it probably wasn’t the most elegant of first dates to exist.

Shiro chuckles, tail thumping against the seat as he does.

“I suppose that’s true.”  He places his hand on the table, over Keith’s, intertwining their fingers together.  Keith blushes, finding it endearing Shiro wants to hold his hand even when it’s covered in grease.  “I still wish I could have given you better.”

Keith looks to Shiro, to his large, gray eyes, his big ears that have lowered, his expression soft and full of love.  Keith will never get used to it.

“I don’t want better,” Keith leans closer as he speaks, resting his head on Shiro’s shoulder, squeezing their fingers together.  “I just want you.  I’ve always just wanted you.  You could serve me dinner in a park on a see-saw and I’d still love you.”

It’s quiet for a moment, still and peaceful, until Keith feels Shiro perk up beside him.

“A park?”  Shiro’s voice has gone distant.  Keith lifts his head, looking to his boyfriend, whose wearing an expression like he’s just discovered something brilliant.  Then he faces Keith, lips spread with a smile and eyes bright as stars.  “We should go.”

Keith doesn’t understand the hurry, isn’t quite in on the joke, but scrambles out of the booth and accepts Shiro’s hand when it’s offered.  Once they’ve payed and are out on the street, Shiro takes off, Keith in tow.  Even though he’s still unsure of what’s happening, Keith decides to humour Shiro’s good mood, and tries his best to keep up.  Shiro has far more stamina than him, so Shiro picks him up when he gets tired and runs while holding him.  They both laugh, giggling like the high school couple everyone compares them too, Keith gripping Shiro’s shoulders as they race through the streets.

Soon, they arrive, and Keith feels slightly stupid for not recognising the neighbourhood so much sooner.

“Wow, this brings back memories!” And it really does.

The swing set, the sand pit, the slide.  Keith moves slowly through the different parts of the playground, running his hands lightly over the damp workings.  It’s in pretty good condition, considering how little upkeep he’s sure it gets, yet it seems to have remained a favourite place of play for generations, even long after Shiro and Keith had grown out of it.

He turns to Shiro, to see a soft and forgiving smile directed at him.

“What’s that look for?” Keith chides, though can’t help but smile back.

Shiro moves over the sand, taking Keith’s hand and leading him toward the jungle-gym. The exact one Keith had been cowering on top of all those years ago.  The exact one Shiro had saved him from falling off and being attacked by the neighbourhood bullies, the one Shiro had coaxed him down from, where, at the base, had begun a friendship so deep it has shaken Keith with gratitude every day after.

It’s where they stand now.

“This,” Shiro nods to the ground, where their shoes create footprints in the sand.  “Is where we first met and where, I’ll argue, I first fell in love with you.”

Keith raises his eyebrows, at both the statement and the turn of direction their night has taken.  Though he won’t protest; Shiro’s sentimentality is one of the many things Keith adores about him.

“We were just kids, Shiro.  We still believed in cooties.”

“I said I’d argue, and I will.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but shuts his mouth.

“What you said before, in the diner, about having dinner in a park and still being thankful, well, it brought us back to here.”

“I was only mildly joking?” Keith offers.  Shiro laughs, and Keith gets lost in it, in the joy on his mate’s face.

“My point is: you’re right.  No matter what, no matter how long we’ve been together and will be together, no matter what else I have to protect you from, I’ll always pay thanks to this spot.  I wanted to honour you somehow while doing this, and what better way than to do it while also honouring this place.”

Keith grows confused, his expressions conveying that…

…until Shiro kneels.

One knee in the sand, hands still grasping Keith’s in his.  He drops only one, to reach into his breast pocket and pull out a little, black, velvet box.  Keith feels numb, in all the right ways.  He feels his heart sing and his nerves shout.  His tail swishes excitedly, matching the nervous wave of Shiro’s.  It feels so unexpected, yet Keith has seen it coming for years.

“Keith Kogane, my omega and mate, the love of my life and, even if you don’t believe in them, my soulmate…”

“Yes.”

Shiro frowns.

“Let me ask you properly,” he almost pleads.

“Yes,” Keith only says again.

“I should have known.  You will forever be impatient.”

Keith laughs wetly, tears spilling from his eyes, his happiness overflowing.  Shiro laughs with him, opening the little box to reveal the most perfect engagement ring Keith has ever seen.  It’s bright red ruby sits in a web of elegantly woven silver, the small branches morphing into the band.  It’s so incredibly Keith, he wonders how long Shiro had been searching for it.

It slides onto his finger as if it were crafted for him and him alone, sitting snuggly on his left, ring finger, never to be removed.

Shiro stands, not even stopping to brush off the sand on his clothes before scooping Keith into his arms.  The kiss is heated and strong and everything Keith looks forward to holding for the rest of his life.

“Is this what you were doing all these weeks?” Keith asks against Shiro’s lips, not daring to part from him.  “Is this what kept you from me?”

Shiro’s ears flatten slightly as he blushes.

“I needed it to be perfect; you deserve even more than that.  I couldn’t figure out how to ask you, or where.  I’ve been going around the city for weeks; visiting different locations, restaurants, jewellery stores, and before you say anything!” Because Keith was going to.  “I know you’d be happy even if I asked it on the couch while we fell asleep to re-runs of Ru Paul’s Drag Race, but I _wanted_ it to be like this.  I wanted to give you more.  I always will.”

Keith won’t argue, not when Shiro’s lips meet his in another hot kiss, like all the ones he can’t believe he thought he’d ever be without, like all the ones he’s received gratefully ever since.

“I love you, baby,” Shiro says into the next kiss.

“I love you, too,” Keith says into the one after that.

Just like their mantra, their code that they’ve lived by for two years, they share as many kisses as they can, wasting no time in between.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on twitter: @KinkyKeithy

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter @KinkyKeithy!


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